


Scrap

by GarGoyl



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Blood Drinking, Demons, Guns, Half-Human, Horror, M/M, Nymphs & Dryads
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-29
Updated: 2016-03-01
Packaged: 2018-03-20 06:07:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3639609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GarGoyl/pseuds/GarGoyl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. In modern times, Sebastian Michaelis, a demon writer who struggles with his newest work while being employed by an obscure agency he never does any work for, will find unexpected motivation in its other 'scrap' resource, a young convert bearing the name of a former enemy. Rated for creepiness, violence, guns and you-know-what.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**CHAPTER 1**

A/N – Hello my dear readers! It’s been a while since I wrote anything Kuro related and to put it bluntly, I started this on a whim (not like I didn’t have enough of a load of ficwork already…) I don’t really know where it’s going, only that it’s based on a scene which had popped into my mind a while ago, based on some sinister stuff I saw on TV a while back. I probably wouldn’t have written this if not motivated by a very special friend – namely Aservis Roturier. Again, don’t know what will come out of it, but in the meantime enjoy!

* * *

 

A pale hand ran irritably through silvery bangs as a certain former shinigami known as Undertaker ran his access card on the device embedded in the wall several times with no result. Some half-assed job this had been, like everything else they had been getting to begin with. A few hardcore curses later he did manage to let himself in and walked down the dark corridor smelling of mold and old stuff, to his office. Of course, he understood why they couldn’t get headquarters in a fancy office building, but this – the shitty basement of a technical stuff museum so boring that no one ever set foot in it – was too much even for his otherwise high level of tolerance.

The reaper opened the door and sighed deeply as he was met with the view of his cramped, messy and poorly illuminated office. A long while back life had been rather good to Undertaker, he’d had a small business in the form of a mortician parlor and he was making decent money out of it too while keeping under the radar. Except he’d somehow overestimated the ‘under the radar’ part and somehow, by means he’d rather not recall, the silver-haired reaper had ended up in the Government’s service, keeping the supernatural world in check. Or at least trying to…    

He was fairly late today and Grell Sutcliffe - his secretary - was already at his desk, boredly flipping through an Avon catalogue. 

“Ah, good morning, Mr. Undertaker!” the bubbly redhead greeted, flashing a sharp-toothed grin.  

“Yes. May be good to you…”

Undertaker hadn’t been the kind of person who had approached work in a joyful, enthusiastic manner even in his good days, or when he was doing a job of his own choosing, so no, in his books this wasn’t a ‘good morning’. A grimmer adjective would have probably been more appropriate, seeing how he hated mornings to begin with. And this was a _Monday_ morning, for Death’s sake!

“Goodness, Adrian, you are the GM of this agency! Has it never occurred to you to wear something to look the part?!” Grell exclaimed just as his boss had thought he’d escaped cheaply for the day, with no more fashion advice. “People have expectations of you!”

Probably people who actually believed that his name was Adrian Crevan and that he’d used to work as a police detective before this, Undertaker thought mildly amused, as he collected the newest file which had been left on his desk and stepped into the adjacent kitchenette, starting the coffee filter.     

“This coat is _anachronistic_ ,” the red-haired reaper went on, finger pointed at the black, long, button-up coat the other was usually donning. “You look like John Galliano on a very bad day.”

Undertaker ignored him, instead flipping the hard cover open with one hand, while with the other he fished a bone-shaped biscuit out of his special jar. He scowled at the contents, his gaze glued to the gruesome picture stapled onto the front page.  

“That… “Grell said, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed. “If you hadn’t visually aggressed me yet again with your appalling taste in clothing, I would have told you about our new case as soon as you arrived. See, we don’t have much aside from the story which already made the headlines, but it looks like someone decided to let a pack of trained attack dogs loose on a playground for kids. That would be the result of it.”   

The silver-haired reaper scratched his head, scowl deepening as he pushed the file aside and poured a cup of hot coffee. “Are we getting any stuff for this mission?” he asked, more rhetorically than anything since the answer wasn’t hard to guess. 

“You know William,” Grell replied, rolling his eyes. “He only knows two words – ‘budget’ and ‘results’. It’s the usual, I’m afraid, you’ll have to call that obnoxious little shit.”

* * *

 

As Undertaker was still leafing through the file and sipping from his cup there was a sound of hurried steps outside in the corridor, causing his redhead secretary to whip his head around.

“Oh, _Bassy,_ wait-“ the reaper cried, storming out in pursuit, but the other person moved significantly faster, such that Grell only caught a glimpse of some vague twirl of black before the door of the other office across the hall was slammed shut. “Awww… you don’t suppose he’d like to go out for a coffee with me, do you?” he whined.   

On the other side of the door, the black-haired demon sighed boredly, sliding the leather jacket off his shoulders and tossing it carelessly on the backrest of his chair. Would this be another day without inspiration, he wondered, plopping into the seat and pressing the start button of his laptop. Black-nailed fingers drummed lazily onto the hard surface of the desk as the screen came to life – even without checking the regular emails he was getting from his editor Sebastian knew that there was about a month left until he would have to deliver at least an outline to his new book.

Only he was still horribly, abysmally plot-less! Over the centuries he’d found useful to put his own demonic experiences into crafty words (ever faithful to the all-prevailing sense of demon aesthetics, of course) and had charmed countless people naïve enough to believe that those stories were the product of one’s wonderful (or terrible) imagination. But as of late, especially after becoming forcefully affiliated with the ‘Scrap’ bureau, his existence had faded into an unfortunate dullness, in which he was barely feeding every now and then to keep himself alive.  

The demon sighed, absentmindedly stroking the soft fur of one of his cat familiars as the small creature jumped and curled up in his lap, purring contentedly. Maybe there wasn’t any experience worth living and writing about these days? It would have been a sad conclusion, and one he’d never thought he’d reach anytime soon…. 

“I know what’s been bothering you as of late,” a voice said behind him suddenly. “You’re bored, you can’t find any inspiration to write and I daresay that has led to the insignificant detail of your falling behind on paying the contribution. You know you were only exempt from an active participation on financial grounds, but with that gone…  ”

Sebastian turned in his seat to look questioningly at the Undertaker. Maybe he could rob someone next time he went for a ‘devil’s night out’, someone with a substantial enough wallet to cover the overdue expenses. Then he would be left to work on his book in peace. He could tell the reaper off with that, only his lips refused to deliver the convenient lie. To say that the lack of ideas drove him up the wall was an understatement.

“Work might be fun,” Undertaker suggested, flailing his oversized sleeves in a comical fashion. “And I promise to keep Grell off your back.”   

“Oh, I somehow doubt that. Do you know how many books, _series_ even about all sorts of low breeds have invaded the mainstream lately? Not much real plot within those countless pages either… and while one could blame that on humans’ superficial imagination and resourcefulness, arguably nothing truly interesting happens these days,” the demon replied. “Tell me, what petty murderer have you been assigned to thwart this time?”

The silver-haired reaper sighed, producing some papers from somewhere inside his robes and laying them on the desk. “We don’t know yet, but this case looks juicy to me. At least come observe, maybe you’ll find yourself intrigued, if not willing to give a hand… I don’t mean to whine, but I do have an office to man and William’s been helpful like fuck, you know…”

With that, Undertaker made himself scarce just as silently as he’d walked in and Sebastian picked up the papers, leafing boredly through the brief police report and the pictures of the scene. What exactly was juicy about this, he wondered, the horrible deaths of the children? The rather unusual location? Maybe none of this counted as unusual in this day and age.

Perhaps it wasn’t so much the case itself, but the ‘worker’ Undertaker had fished recently for his stupid jobs? Abandoning the thin file, the demon turned his attention to the laptop once more, accessing the agency’s internal network. The ‘Personnel’ section was passworded, but what kind of demon would he have been if he couldn’t bypass William’s half-assed security system?  Only four folders there – his, Undertaker’s, Grell’s and another, named ‘C.P.(test period)’.  He checked the creation date, it was barely two months old. New staff, then?

Thumb rubbing thoughtfully over his lower lip, Sebastian clicked the mouse over it, his attention drawn to a Word document named ‘Background’. There was one other file under ‘Completed Missions’, but he ignored it. Tsking, he pushed aside the cat which had jumped off his lap and half onto the keyboard, a clawed paw eagerly pursuing the white cursor (thank Hell it hadn’t accidentally deleted anything this time), he opened the document and stared scowling at the title he was instantly met with. Phantomhive? No, this couldn’t be… That scoundrel was lying in a deep grave, had been for a while now. _Vincent_ , that was…

But who in Belial’s name was _Ciel_ Phantomhive? Hmm… maybe this was something worth checking after all.

* * *

 

Narrowed blue eyes gave a brief flash of magenta along with the boy’s irritated groan as the marker he was using to highlight the text in the book faded completely. Ciel sighed deeply, tossing the utensil in the trash bin, and dug in his desk drawer for a new one. Some dismal sounds came from the kitchen below – his uncle was probably home by now, drunk off his ass and in a hazy search of food. Well, there was some left, needing to be heated up in the microwaves, but Ciel wasn’t going to bother all the way there only to point that out.

“Any particular reason you’re sulking in this fashion?”

The brunet continued to scowl at his book, highlighting and taking notes. “Nope… other than that it’s Tuesday, I have a shitload of assignments _and_ some asshole trolled my stuff on DeviantArt,” he stated dryly.

The nymph named Alois plopped casually on the bed, sighing dramatically. “Do you know what they said when Degas put up his first exhibition of paintings with the Paris Opera dancers? Critics piled up to say that his art was vulgar and expressionless.”

“Yeah, I never said my sketches were any fucking _Degas_ … do you have a smoke?”

The blue-eyed brunet abandoned his book on the desk and spun around in his chair, reaching out to grab the cigarette the nymph had offered, while Alois stood and walked up to his wardrobe, opening the door and staring pensively at the contents.

“Not important, what I’m saying is that whatever you put out there can and probably will be trolled at some point. And I’m also saying no way in fucking hell I’m taking you out to grab dinner with you wearing that… that _thing_. I’m really not planning on starving.”

Ciel’s eyebrow was raised slightly as he looked down at his baggy jeans and black nondescript t-shirt. Admittedly it wasn’t an attractive outfit, but no matter what he wore he couldn’t hope to rival the blond nymph’s perfectly gracious body clad with those tight-fitting black shorts and knee-high boots. Which was why – he reminded himself – he had decided to stick with him in the first place.

Ciel didn’t happen to be the friendly type, but during his first feeding exploits he’d met Alois Trancy, who had introduced himself as being a ‘nymph’. The newly turned demon didn’t know what nymphs were - beyond the very obvious aspect of their outstanding debauchery – but they swayed towards the same cuisine as he did on occasion, so he and the charming blond had found it mutually advantageous to hunt together, because Alois was amazing at attracting prey and the blond too was more comfortable knowing someone with similar powers had his back while hunting in case things got ugly. Which they did on occasion. 

The nymph’s true name was Jim Macken, but it sounded rather classless and most of the _turned_ changed their names in their new lives, so the blond had become Alois Trancy. Ciel too had taken the name of his maker – Phantomhive - it was fancy enough, he’d figured, and this way he thought he could retain more of the man who had so dramatically changed the course of his destiny.  

“Here, put these on,” Alois prompted, throwing a pair of black, slim fit jeans and a tight, grey v-neck in his direction. “And lose that stupid ring for once, it spells ‘commitment’. People out to hook up don’t like that sort of thing, I told you!”

Small fingers gripped the sapphire ring Ciel always wore on a silver chain around his neck (it was too large even for his thumb). He ran a short, black nail over the cool, uneven surface of the stone thoughtfully as he chewed his bottom lip. “He said it had the very color of my eyes, when he gave it to me.”

“It does. It’s also a trinket with a cracked stone.”

“It’s a fucking _sapphire_! I checked, you know?!”

“Fine, it’s a golden trinket with a cracked sapphire. But seriously, thinking of how rich the guy was, it must have been a trifle to him.”

Yes, he knew that. But still, having lost his real parents such a long time ago that he hardly remembered them and his uncle being the useless fuck that he was, his maker had been the closest thing to a father Ciel had known. And he had _loved_ the man and had felt loved in return. Only shortly after his turning, his maker had vanished off the face of the earth and the boy had been left on his own, soon to be taken in forced custody by some freak agency.

“Al, do you think he’s ever coming back? Vincent, I mean…”

The blond sighed. “Look C., you need to leave Vincent behind once and for all, holding on to him does you no good. Wanna keep his name? Fine, name sounds cool. I know he was your maker, but he’s a demon who at some point might have had a daddy kink, that’s all.”

“Ah!” the other boy scowled, shaking his head. “It was never like that! You make it sound so… dirty. He never even suggested-“

“Or maybe he was just very subtle and he made sure you didn’t remember any of it. But whatever it was, please do yourself a huge favor and drop the idea that he ever loved it you. For fuck’s sake, Ciel, demons don’t _love_.”

* * *

 

When the text had reached his cell phone, Ciel had been out in the company of his ‘dinner-to-be for the night’ and the young demon’s nose had scrunched up at the thought of more of the so-called job he loathed, but then again some change in his pockets wouldn’t have been half bad. His uncle wasn’t a proper caretaker on a good day and not even by the fuckest standards and with his maker gone and getting sucked into this ‘agreement’, hell, he didn’t have it easy.   

Now the half-lidded blue eyes watched as the smoke of his cigarette drifted lazily towards the cracked ceiling, adding to the stale air of the room. “You know, I was thinking… that you should at least give me some options here,” the brunet said eventually, jaded gaze coming to dwell upon the man sitting on the other side of the desk as he took another long drag. “Because this is a shit deal.”

“Oh, is it now?” Undertaker drummed his long-nailed fingers on the hard cover of the file in front of him and examined his silver rings with an unreadable expression. He knew that much himself (for fuck’s sake!), but saying it out loud or agreeing to the other’s statement would have been utterly unproductive.

“Yes! You made me stay with my drunkard uncle for the appearances of normality, I have to keep going to school and pretend I’m just as brain-fucked as everyone else and this on-and-off thing you call a job doesn’t pay shit!”

The boy slumped in his seat with a huff. If only he could find Vincent again, he thought morosely, his thumb running out of habit over the sapphire of his maker’s ring. If only Vincent hadn’t disappeared off the face of the fucking Earth, his protégé wouldn’t have been labeled a ‘convert’ and taken in by the Scrap agency.

The Undertaker sighed, resting his chin on the heel of his palm. “How many options do you think we all have, _Earl_? And what options have _you_ given to Elizabeth Midford? Now, I don’t have to remind you how that went and that you’re only alive because she is alive…” 

The young demon scowled, but said nothing. She was alive, yes. And he had been careless at the time, but the silly brat had proven an exceedingly easy meal and besides, it wasn’t as if he could give up his feeding habits entirely. Sure, it was thanks to the Undertaker that stupid Lizzy was doing fine and not remembering shit about that night. Alois always warned him about keeping his hunger in check and against picking people he would meet again, but that night he was pissed and hungry and he hadn’t given a fuck that the drunken blonde was going to the same highschool as he did. And then he’d taken _almost_ too much of her blood…

Ciel crushed his cigarette in the cheap ashtray placed on Undertaker’s desk, blowing out the last of his smoke. “Fine, then. What sort of crap do you have this time?”

The reaper took the file from the top of the pile lined up on one side of his messy desk and handed it over with two fingers, barely fighting back a bitter chuckle as the boy turned white in the face upon opening it. Ciel might have been a half-demon and shared some of his maker’s powers, but he was still very much humanly afraid of most stuff. Not that he’d ever admit it to Undertaker and his lot.

“Take the nymph with you, he does a good job at keeping you in check – for the most part, that is – and keeping you safe. I’ll have Grell to run the surprise show and to handle things, but only if it gets really, really ugly. I don’t expect it though, despite admittedly being intrigued about the whole thing…”

“Huh. I’ll take Al and you’d better give me some new toys for this. As for Grell, maybe you wouldn’t want that giant lobster barging on the scene unnecessarily, seeing how he’s hardly inconspicuous.”

* * *

 

The mysterious Ciel Phantomhive and Undertaker’s conversation went on for a little while longer, the two of them going over the details of the mission and both unaware that they were being eavesdropped on. It wasn’t that Sebastian had any qualms with peeking through keyholes and such, but since there were so few sources of excitement in his tedious existence these days in the last moment he’d figured he shouldn’t ruin his own surprise. So he had decided he’d take a look at Undertaker’s worker, well… at work, and not a moment sooner.

The demon had still allowed himself to listen though and there were still things his sharp senses could deduce without seeing – it was someone very young, with a distinct flavor of fear and uncertainty deep inside, and who took advantage of the demonic attribute of perfect and unalterable health by smoking like a chimney, occasionally drowning in liquor and very likely also otherwise exercising all of the _essentially human_ vices this world is plagued with. How very intriguing! Sebastian couldn’t relate any of these things to his knowledge of his former enemy – for indeed he had taken the time to study Vincent’s character in depth, for the sake of one of his older novels – yet the very fact that his person bearing his name was now working for the Scrap agency was solid proof that it wasn’t a name coincidence. The two of them must have been related and the raven demon had every intention to find out the details.

And, just like a cat enticed by a new toy – or a new prey – Sebastian would not be deterred from his pursuit of his new interest… at least not until it was dead. Well, more or less figuratively.

 ** _To be continued_**    


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER 2**

A/N – Hello everyone! I realize you may have lost hope of this thing ever getting taken out of hiatus and I’d nearly joined you myself. Indeed, it took a while to clear up some stuff like my work priorities in general and sorting out the enormous ficload which had already piled up when I started this, but the dark times are officially over. That is to say, ‘Scrap’ is out of hiatus and will be running from now on! Enjoy!

_Warning: gore_

* * *

 

“I can’t believe you’ve actually bothered to leave your office for once, Bassy. Should I be flattered?”

The dark-haired demon made no move from where he was leaning over the backrest of the reaper’s chair and continued to chew absently on a black thumbnail, offering no encouragement to the other’s flirting. Instead he pointed at the large monitor which currently showed a deserted playground barely illuminated by street lights.

“Please, don’t assume that I’m bothering too much as it is,” he said after a while. “I was simply curious about Undertaker’s new worker, the file I found on the server was rather brief and lacking in details. Name’s striking though, to be honest…” Sebastian muttered the last words more to himself, fleetingly observing Grell’s shocked expression upon admitting he’d hacked into the restricted personnel files. Also, it was most likely that Undertaker’s secretary knew nothing of his past enemies and the name Phantomhive didn’t ring any bells either.

“Oh, it’s just a brat we’ve got our hands on barely a year ago after he’d caused a rather unfortunate incident. He’s a convert and you can probably guess how much trouble those are, but Undertaker figured he would have to do when it comes to this sort of jobs…”

“A _convert_?”

Sebastian found the term unsettling, like a vaguely irritable sensation. It sounded… nearly religious. Hell almighty, could it have been that these useless twats known as reapers dared consider their whatever values a valid system of beliefs? How distasteful… And he would never have guessed how the next phrase would come to contradict his previous assumption.

Grell rolled his eyes, unaware of the depths of the other’s train of thought. “Yes. You know, a half-demon, or a _half-blood_ I believe is the term. For some reason his maker isn’t around anymore, so the boy was entirely on his own.”     

The raven demon’s brow furrowed slightly as he considered the new facts. So Vincent had created a minion – who else would have dared bear his name (Hell, he _should_ have figured!) - but to what purpose? And he’d kept him under wraps so well that said minion probably wasn’t even aware of his demise?  Oh well, maybe he’d just had some random whim… one beyond Sebastian’s comprehension. Vincent’s deed was of course not singular, but he had never understood the stirring desire behind the creation of such a pet creature, when demons were naturally able to make themselves irresistible to all mankind. What could possibly be so charmingly unique about a human being in order to entice _ownership_ and even the very gifting of demonic attributes?

Sebastian peeled away from the chair and folded his arms, his interest in the matter suddenly fading. Almost certainly it had all been a false hope and a waste of time – what he needed first and foremost was a subject for his book and half-bloods were usually weak and uninteresting, essentially pathetic in their aspiration of becoming like their makers. He slid into Undertaker’s free chair, shoulders slumping - the boy wasn’t probably even worth the hunt.

* * *

 

The nymph’s fingers drummed lazily on the wheel as the pale blue eyes took in the scene indifferently. He’d stay back with the car and the backup stuff in case things got ugly and Ciel gave him one nod before walking away. It was always a pain in the ass when he didn’t know what he was dealing with and Undertaker hadn’t given him anything other than the official news reports and paper clippings. And those were full of meaningless speculations as to why someone would have pit trained attack dogs against some helpless kids on a playground. 

‘Why the fuck is that our business anyway’ the young demon inwardly grumbled, trotting away to the concrete basketball court in view with an old rubber ball under his arm. He’d dug the damned thing from the depths of some closet which hadn’t seen the light of day – or light bulb - for many years and he didn’t recall ever laying eyes on the object before.

“Hey! Just wanted to check if this new stuff works okay,” he heard Alois’s voice in the miniscule earpiece he wore. “See anything out of place yet?”

Ciel glanced around boredly, but there was nothing worth noting at a first glance. “Nah… there’s nothing here, just me looking uncharacteristically lame.”

Indeed, he wore some proper knee-length jeans with grey converses and an unsightly, oversized squared shirt. He was supposed to look much younger than he was and due to his petite frame it was easy to pull off, seven years younger in the blink of an eye, not that he’d ever be comfortable looking _fucking ten_. But versatility was important when it came to field work, Grell had pointed. Fuck yeah, especially this coming from someone who invariably donned a flashy red coat from the Matrix era…

“’s fine, bro, you look the part,” the nymph replied. “You look like a normal kid to be found in such a place. And it’s just past seven, so-“

Ciel paused to examine a row of colorful swings on the side. “I’ve never been to a playground before.” The basketball hoop was right in front of him, so he took the ball in his hand and launched it with a simple, smooth move, watching as it gracefully slipped right through the net and rolled down on the ground. This very gesture was a first, but then again it wasn’t like he needed actual practice to master something that mundane.   

“Ah… that’s kind of sad actually,” Alois observed.

“Don’t think I missed much though. And besides, I’ve been to other kinds of ‘playgrounds’,” the demon snickered, walking up to retrieve the ball. His smile faded though upon hearing some rustling in the surrounding shrubbery and he froze, standing motionless in place, ball clutched in his hands. The small nostrils flared, picking up a strange, unfamiliar scent. Some faint growls followed, barely audible in the wind and probably impossible to pick up by a human ear.

“Oh, fuck me. I think they’re coming, Al,” Ciel muttered, turning around slowly. He squinted, at last being able to discern some large shapes moving through the leaves with the distinctive care of a predator not wanting to be spotted by its intended prey just yet. “The dogs. They’re here, Al. Get ready, just in case.”

A moment later, the beasts were out in the open, their massive shapes throwing long shadows on the concrete for a few moments, before the nearby street lamps suddenly began glowing much brighter than before, enough to blind someone. However, Ciel only tilted his head to the side, allowing the ball to slip from his hands and slowly reaching for the twin semi-automatic guns hidden under his shirt.   

“Alois, did you know that a very, very long time ago I was in the church choir?”

“The irony,” the blond nymph said.

Ciel chuckled bitterly, pointing his guns at the sharp-toothed muzzles now in full view, and began to sing a slow, creepy tune while he waited for his targets to get in good range.   

_“Si Deus me relinquit,”_

The first beast fell to the ground, literally reaped down by bullets.

_“Ego Deum relinquo.”_

The squeals of the injured and dying dogs filled the air, yet more of them slipped out from the bush and onto the playground, all of their yellow eyes trained upon the sole, much desired prey, oblivious of the piling corpses scattered in their path.

_“Solus oppressus nigram clavem habere potest ,”_

The boy’s fingers did not pause on the triggers, aiming without fail every single time and without mercy. Much to Ciel’s annoyance, the images of the dead children lingered in the back of his mind, bloody and torn, and arose within him the desire to do the same to the one behind the heinous act.

_“Omnias ianuas praecludo”_

_“Sic omnias precationes obsigno._

Yet that person remained unseen and more and more dogs were coming, which was both strangely suspicious and disconcerting. Just how many fucking dogs could someone have? 

_Sed qui me defendet?”_

_“Ab me terribilissimo ipse.”_

He wasn’t _quite so_ afraid, even if he noticed that his regular ammunition was now running low. They were just dogs, no matter how rabid, and he was not like the children who had been torn apart. In theory he could run faster than any living creature could pursue, but still human fears inhabited the recesses of his mind and there would still be some time until he was rid of them for good. Not to mention, Ciel hadn’t really done anything to test his limits yet, so it was natural to harbor some doubts in regard to his demonic abilities.

“Si Deus me relinquit… I’m fucked,” he observed, more as a general conclusion, glancing down at the empty clips and letting them drop to the ground.

“ _Deus_ has already _relinquit_ -ed you bitch,” Alois laughed. “Switch to holy water ammo.”

* * *

 

Grell was nearly glued to the computer screen, chewing his fingernails. “Ah fuck, I knew it! He’s fucked! Look at him, there’s no way-“ He turned abruptly, eyeing the raven-haired demon seriously. “We have to intervene or all will be lost!”

“We?”

The reaper rolled his eyes at the other’s carelessness. “ _Bassy_ , you should know that not everyone shares your lack of involvement in the affairs of this agency!”

“Don’t,” said the demon, reaching lazily and laying a hand on the redhead’s shoulder. “I want to see what he’s made of. What’s it to you, anyway? Undertaker did send _him_ , and like you said, he’s only a convert and a pain in the ass. If he were to die, would it really be such a grievance to the agency?”

The reaper blinked a few times, his usually sheet-white cheeks very close to sporting a blush, then adjusted his spectacles with a nervous gesture. “I suppose not…  Undertaker would probably find another… right?”

It wasn’t that Sebastian necessarily wanted to see bloodshed, or Vincent’s so-called ‘offspring’ brought to nothingness in the course of events. But the poor demon was so direly bored, so bored that he could feel it painfully in his very bones, and would have given his all for just a tiny bit of entertainment.       

* * *

 

“And I’m changing the fucking ‘soundtrack’, okay? I nearly thought you were seeking to exorcise us both with that shit,” Alois said, and in the next moment _Prodigy – Mescaline Molotov Beatz Remix_ poured in through the earpiece.

The music infused new energy in Ciel’s limbs, gradually awakening his dark, non-human side, just in time as the remainder of his ammunition was spent on littering the ground with even more carcasses. He (and everyone at the agency, for that matter) had genuinely thought that whoever it was behind these gruesome attacks would be taken by surprise by the guns, but it surely looked like they’d all been proven wrong. Whoever it was, the monster from the shadows was going all out and Ciel would have to do the same. By the time the holy water clips were out completely, he counted at least thirty dead beasts lying on the ground – hell, they hadn’t even been that many, just unexpectedly hard to kill and had taken up more shots than anyone could have foreseen.

The young demon sniffed the air, taking in all the scents carried by the soft evening breeze. Was this all, just when he’d seriously warmed up for more?

“C., there’s something else coming at you, something big,” he heard Alois signaling almost with concern. “It just passed by the car and I can tell you it doesn’t… doesn’t feel _natural_ , if you know what I’m saying.”

“Ugh… just when I already spent my holy water ammo irrelevantly,” Ciel groaned.

“Want me to step in with some heavy stuff?”

“Nah… if I’m doing this, I’m doing this,” the brunet replied, throwing the guns to the ground. No longer loaded with the spare clips he felt lighter and willing to move and the pervasive scent of blood was like sweet spice to the boy’s heightened senses. Small fingers confidently gripped the handles of the two long knives he kept as the backup of backups in the back pockets of his jeans and pulled them out their sheaths in one fluid move.   

When the creature showed itself, its sheer repulsiveness and deformity were enough to send a cold shiver down Ciel’s spine. And the smell of it! It was something putrid and _unholy_ in the most horrid sense of the word, the way Vincent had told him only low-breeds smelled, those being unable to shake off the hellish stenches as they set foot in this world. The creature’s very breath was a poisonous fume, but when it opened its dripping muzzle, not growls came out but words.

In front of the computer screen, Sebastian made some effort to shake off the red-haired reaper who whined and clung to his arm as if his life depended on it and leaned closer to the screen, garnet eyes avidly taking in the shape of the gruesomely hunched black wolf with acid green eyes.

“Well now, what is _that_?” he wondered, genuinely curious. Could he really be in some luck tonight?  And was Vincent’s boy really going to try and fight it? With nothing but those knives? Well, it wasn’t _just_ the knives, but half-bloods being dominated by their human side were mostly unable to mentally grasp the full capacity of their powers and so it was rare that they would approach a fight with their hands and teeth.  

“You think you can fight me, but you’re just a child,” the creature breathed, each word strangely drawled. “I will devour your soul, just like I did with the other children. Did you know? Children’s souls are the best. Innocence is scrumptious….”

If anything, Ciel really didn’t appreciate being called ‘a child’ and if he was to think of it through, the whole speech was highly offensive. He was not a fucking child and sure as fucking hell he wasn’t _innocent_!

“Oh fuck, looks like he is a soul eater!” the nymph said, alarmed.

The blue-eyed boy knew that Alois was far more knowledgeable than him in the vast domain of magic beings, and if he was alarmed then Ciel too should have been concerned by the situation, but his demonic side had not only been roused but also endlessly irked, and as a result he was hardly in the mood for caution.

“What, like in the anime?”

“No, you prick! Like a soul-eating demon.”

“Yeah, whatever. Put Prodigy back on, yeah? This superfucking New Age shit just got on my nerves!” He gave one of the long knives an expert spin in the air. “Listen, big ugly thing you, I don’t know much about this soul thing, but I tell you what I do know: karma’s a fucking bitch and I’m going to prove this simple yet powerful statement to you in _fucking style_!”

“Geez, kill them with you eloquence, if nothing else, pfft…” Alois observed.

By the time the blond finished his phrase, Ciel was already in the air, having jumped out of the path of the lunging beast. He’d intended to land on top of it and thrust both blades in the back of its neck, but the wolf moved too fast and instead he only managed a shallow wound to the hip before it turned swiftly and suddenly its massive front paws had Ciel pinned to the ground. It was an opportunity to strike at what was exposed of the creature’s sides and chest, at least until the sharp teeth sunk in the flesh of his forearm and the boy’s whole body was pulled from under the wolf and thrown away, literally sent flying.

It was a tearing move and undoubtedly a human’s arm would have been ripped off neatly by both the bite and the sheer force of the motion, but luckily he wasn’t exactly human anymore. He hit the metal pole of the basketball hoop instead, before falling to the ground in a heap and slamming his head against the concrete. Dizzy and angrier than ever, Ciel let out a comprehensive string of curses, momentarily unable to decide which part of him hurt worse. He stood up on wobbly legs, noticing that his right arm was drenched in blood and was bent at an odd angle too, meaning he now had only one good arm left and one knife.     

“Fuck that shit!” the demon concluded, scowling at the approaching beast.

“C., are you sure you don’t want me to-“

“No. I’m fucking killing it, if it’s the last thing I do!”

He waited, wiping the scraped side of his face with the back of his good hand, letting the wolf draw nearer and nearer, until the snout prodded his frame and felt teeth sinking into his flesh anew.

“DIE, YOU FUCKING THING!” Ciel shouted, thrusting the knife spot on into one of the creature’s eyes, again and again, watching the blade come out on the other side of the skull, not stopping until the massive form went completely limp and collapsed at his feet, finally lifeless.

“Why do you _always_ have to get emotionally involved?” Alois asked dryly.

**_To be continued_ **

**Song translation**

Si Deus me relinquit/ If God has forsaken me

Ego Deum relinquo./ Then I shall forsake God, too.

Solus oppressus nigram clavem habere potest ,/ Only the oppressed may possess a black key,

Omnias ianuas praecludo/ I close all doors

Sic omnias precationes obsigno./Thus I seal away all prayers.

Sed qui me defendet?/ However, who protects me?

Ab me terribilissimo ipse./From the most frightful: myself

****


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER 2.5 – Open poll**

A/N – Hello my dear readers! Because I love you so much and love to make a fuss about it right now, here’s a question for you all, a chance to vote and influence the plot of this story, perhaps in a significant manner. Who knows? There is one question, so answer to your heart’s desire:

What should Sebastian disguise himself as?

  1.       Ex-military
  2.       Priest



Let me know until the end of next week ;)

 

Results announced below ;))

* * *

 

**CHAPTER 3**

A/N – So, the poll opinions (I considered both my ff.net and my ao3 readers’ views on this) were divided, even though a clear majority has emerged... therefore I, your humble one hell of a writer (modest, too!) shall endeavor to build my plot around your choices.  Anyway, as usual, expect the worst to happen ;)

* * *

 

The cracked bathtub had been filled with cold water and ice cubes, most now nearly melted. Ciel lay inside, still fully clothed, limbs outspread and head thrown backwards on the edge, eyes closed. The water had turned a murky red and the scene would have looked gruesome to an unadvised onlooker, the only thing missing must have been some yellow police tape.

Yet the boy’s chest was rising and falling slowly as he rested, unaware of the garnet-colored eyes observing him. The bathroom was very small and only lit by a dirty, flickering bulb, making it easy for Sebastian to hide in the shadows and just… watch.

He was finding unexpected enjoyment in this moment of peace, after the absolute chaos from earlier. Vincent’s minion had been brought in nearly unconscious by another of the agency’s collaborators – a blonde nymph looking awfully standard (for a nymph, mind you) – and then Grell had been going up and down the wall over the mysterious soul eating creature from the playground. He’d thankfully calmed down eventually and was currently brooding in silence, while Undertaker sat slumped over his desk, plagued by a horrible headache.

Admittedly, the _creature_ was a potential subject of interest and the raven-haired demon would not discard the possibility just yet.  It was certainly worth a deeper investigation, but not now. After being bored for so long, he wanted something truly entertaining, fun even, and the soul eater could very well prove to be just another mad warlock in the end, not the sort of disappointment Sebastian was ready to face just yet. Not when he now had less than two weeks to hand the outline of his next book. 

Perhaps the half-blood was worth a closer look after all, even if half-bloods… well… were how they were. Maybe this one was different, the exception which would further confirm the rule.

“I wonder what you’re really made of…” he whispered softly, leaning over the slumbering boy, just enough to deeply inhale the scent of his blood. A rather intriguing fragrance, Sebastian mentally noted.

* * *

 

The music blaring from the sound system of the club above faded more and more as he descended down the spiraled staircase. She wasn’t alone – the demon could clearly sense the presence of another human. The thought brought about some fleeting curiosity, since Sebastian had never bothered to stick around and see what _other_ clients Mey-Rin usually had. 

Sebastian took a rapid peek through the beaded curtain and saw the redhead witch in the company of a woman who sat with her eyes closed, murmuring what was probably a prescribed incantation. He rolled his eyes and shook his head, then drummed lightly with the tip of his fingernail on the doorframe. Mey-Rin stood up slowly and crept towards the curtain, doing her best not to disturb her client.

“What’s up, Sebastian? Come to see how common mortals live these days?”

“You can say that,” the demon agreed, “Although if you’re still using that I figure you’re not doing so badly as your morose tone might imply,” he added amused, motioning with his head towards a picture which was displayed inside the room under the ‘testimonials of success stories’ tag – a very hot Sebastian and a very nerdy and unappealing Mey-Rin holding each other in a sweet embrace, both smiling and looking as happy as can be. Underneath it was written in colorful, curly letters **‘It is possible’***.

She rolled her eyes. “That’s just advertising and you had it coming, I don’t work for free. Speaking of which… what is it that you want this time?”

“My, could it be so obvious that I require your help with something?” Sebastian asked innocently, looking almost offended.

“Yes."

The demon scowled playfully and faked a sigh – for some reason Mey-Rin could always read him, which was at least surprisingly intuitive for someone still essentially human.

“Well, then. I may have found the… _shadow_ of a subject for my next book, which happens to be a rather pressing matter, but I must proceed with care when investigating it. After all, one would not want to scare their prey…”

Mey-Rin shook her head. “So it’s a person.”

“Indeed, to the extent a half-blood can actually be called ‘a person’,” Sebastian stated, briefly examining his nails.

Just because Ciel Phantomhive (the irony) had aroused a vague interest, it didn’t mean that the crow demon was yet any less biased with regard to minions. Probably the boy was different that most minions he’d seen because he’d been left to his own devices very soon after his turning. But again, ‘still essentially human’ was what must have best described him, because Sebastian had noted in the course of time that all those who had been originally human never ceased being so in some basic way and this prevented them from evolving into something truly powerful. 

“A half-blood, huh,” said the witch thoughtfully. “But were you not saying that they’re awfully dull? They might prove a pain in the ass, not to mention I read a ton of cheap series lately involving _half-somethings_ …”

“I know, I know,” the raven-haired demon replied, waving his hand, “But it also means there’s a market for this sort of thing. I suppose I could ultimately waste some of my time producing a one-time crap just to cover the current bills with the agency.”

 

Only that would have been pathetic and it contradicted his work ethics. Sebastian was keen on creating something worth his crafty words and skillful phrases, his fine humor and love of details, and all of that would have been utterly wasted on some mundane mainstream werewolf or vampire saga.

“But you are right, any half-blood would be skittish around me, should they be aware of my true nature,” he said. “That’s why I need your help with that. I need a spell which would make me appear entirely human, do you think that’s possible?”

* * *

 

Undertaker was having another bad day at the office and it wasn’t even a Monday. The whole thing with the soul-eating demon was particularly stressful, it was far more complicated than any other matter he had dealt with since he’d started working for the agency (which by the way was far from being a shinigami dispatch…). The shit staff was the worst problem – that stupid crow demon didn’t  give a fuck and truth be told it was rather hard to make him give one and Ciel Phantomhive was alive for now, but it was unlikely that someone of his level would have survived another full-out confrontation with the soul eater. As for Grell, he was screwing up the simplest tasks.    

His coffee had long gotten cold and when the reaper looked up from the papers he’d been absently staring at to push it away, he saw Sebastian Michaelis standing in front of his desk, donning as usual fully black garments, but with an unexpected twist – a white clerical collar.  There was something odd about the demon’s vibe too, the aura of pure darkness surrounding him was mysteriously gone.

Undertaker fleetingly wondered if he’d accidentally spiced his coffee and if not whether he should have started doing so.

“Exaggerating much?” he asked dryly.

Unsurprisingly, Sebastian ignored the comment. “I want to meet Ciel Phantomhive,” he said casually instead. “I was rather impressed by his little demonstration.”

“Do you, now?”

The reaper shifted and clasped his hands, fingering the multitude of silver rings adorning his long, pale fingers.

“Yes. And I thought you said that I would have fun if I got involved in a mission, no?”

“Indeed, however this… _cosplay_ was not what I had in mind. And he’s not a toy, alright?”

‘What the hell were you thinking?’ he wanted to add, but gave up, knowing it was probably useless. Only now, just as he instinctively spoke those words, did Undertaker realize that managing his existing shit staff could pose a problem beyond their poor quality. Only now did it actually occur to him that the crow demon might actually take the wrong kind of interest in the half-blood boy he was (relatively) trying to protect. 

“Of course not,” Sebastian replied amiably. “Far from me to suggest he is anywhere near that interesting as a toy.”

“Fine. I’ll have you meet him, he’s still here.”

* * *

 

Ciel sat curled up in an overstuffed armchair, fingering his phone, but the scroll through facebook updates did nothing to ease up his irritation, in fact he could barely pay any attention to what he was seeing. Undertaker had insisted that he stay until he and Grell were completely sure of his full recovery - even though the wounds had closed and healed to perfection – and being _here_ didn’t help with his state. Because yes, he’d slain the monster, but something still gnawed at him, a feeling that everything was _not_ alright continued to linger in the back of the young demon’s mind. That creature – there was something with it, even before its demise it had oddly felt like being just a shell, just a temporary container of another entity, something far more powerful, something more-

“Ciel, there you were!”

Grell’s sudden interruption made the boy flinch and drop his gadget, which landed on the floor and split neatly into three parts as a result of the impact.

“Ugh! Did you have to barge in like that?” the blue-eyed minion grumbled, leaning over his seat to gingerly collect the shell, the battery and the card of his phone and busying himself to piece them back together. He really didn’t like the look of exhilaration on the redhead’s face, taking it as rather anticipatory of some new, spectacular shit coming his way.

“As you’re probably aware,” Grell began happily (what the _fuck_ could he have been so happy about?), “Undertaker has been searching for new staff to ease up our workload, well, what’s that corporate term, I think ‘attracting new talent’? And… yeah, he did find someone eventually, and we have every reason to believe that he will be a valuable addition to our team.”

He stepped aside, revealing a tall, dark-haired young man with a rather unusually pale complexion and finely chiseled features and who seemed to be barely holding back an amused smile.

“Ciel, this is Sebastian Michaelis-“ The reaper gasped and paused and Ciel realized the newcomer had just elbowed him. “ _Father_ Sebastian Michaelis,” he corrected.

The petite demon blinked. “You must be joking,” he snorted. “I thought you people didn’t work with-… I mean that you were rather… on the other side of the equation?”

“As it is, there are many sides of the equation,” Grell explained. “Between full black and full white there are many shades of grey.”

Ciel rolled his eyes at the lousy reference, especially since the reaper was blatantly sizing up the young priest. Grell went on to explain how Father Michaelis had extensive experience with exorcisms as well as being an ex-military, but he tuned it out for the most part. He didn’t know what to think of it really, a priest? Was that a good idea?  After all, he _was_ a demon and probably his half-blood status wouldn’t have made him any different in the eyes of a holy man… who probably had not accepted to work for Undertaker’s joke of an agency unless he had some sort of agenda of his own. 

“Anyway, Father Michaelis will help you on the case of the soul eater, he has the proper skills for it,” the reaper concluded, with a wide grin.

Ciel snorted again and, to conceal his growing nervousness, pulled out a cigarette and lit up. “Really? Huh… Guess we’ll have to see about tha-” Words froze on his lips when the smoke was smoothly plucked from his hand by two long, elegant fingers and he saw Father Sebastian Michaelis leaning over him, those unusual, garnet-colored eyes mere inches away from his face. Shit, how the fuck had he moved so fast?!

“Indeed, someone as young as you shouldn’t be smoking,” the older demon observed, barely containing a chuckle as he clearly felt the boy’s angst replaced by a surge of irritation. He put the cigarette between his own lips and proceeded to take a drag, then blow out a perfect circle of smoke. “And how do you suggest we… see about that?”

**_To be continued_ **

*reference to a picture in the Book of Murder manga, where after Sebastian’s ‘death’ someone suggests that he and Mey-Rin could have been secretly involved.


	4. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER 4**

A/N – Hello my dear readers! As you may or may not have noticed, Scrap has undergone a little reorganization a little while ago, because I thought it was a shitty-short-chaptered mess. Much better now ;) Anyway, I hope you’re all happy with Sebby’s _cosplay_ choice, which however doesn’t mean his true form won’t show at some point in the future-… Oops, spoiler! But hey, all the life-coaching out there tells us to be our most genuine selves, so why wouldn’t our favorite demon do the same? Okay, okay, not now, maybe later… Also, I made this crazy song adaption for Alois, but I think it’s fitting hehe… Enjoy!

* * *

 

“Tomorrow. In the practice room, yeah?” Ciel stood brusquely, nearly pushing past the priest as he quickly headed for the door. “I really have to get home now, my uncle texted me several times…”

“But Undertaker said-“

The half-blood ignored Grell entirely, rushing for the exit. He needed to get away from that place as soon as possible and only when he was out in the street did the boy realize that he was actually panting. There was an unpleasant feeling in his stomach, something akin to nausea, even if he hadn’t eaten anything for the past twelve hours. Just _what the hell_ was Undertaker thinking?!

He walked briskly towards the subway entrance, pulling out his cell phone and hastily punching the speed dial.  

“Yeah?” answered a sleepy voice at the other end of the line.

“Al, listen, I think I have a problem. Like, a big problem, I guess.” The young demon snorted in annoyance, not even sure how to phrase his current indignation.”Stupid Undertaker brought a fucking _priest_ to the Agency! I mean what the fuck was he thinking?! Still, he says, a priest can help with that whole soul eater shit, but seriously, didn’t it occur to him that someone from the Church can have an agenda of their own?! Like, fucking wipe us all out?!”  

“A priest, huh? Hmmm… did you tell him that you used to sing in the church choir?”

Ciel gritted his teeth. “I’m serious!” he hissed, casting a nervous glance over his shoulder, more out of instinct than actual logic. 

“C., don’t get worked up over this, okay?” the nymph said. “A priest is still just a man. From what I know very few priests actually have a gift, so your man may have an agenda alright, but still not have what it takes for the task, you know?”

“Oh, I don’t know. He’s not the goody-two-shoes, grandpa-looking kind. He’s quite young actually and an ex-military they say.”

A fart-like sound came in reply and he rolled his eyes.

 “Listen C., I just think you’ve been through quite the shit so why don’t you get home and see if your uncle’s still alive and I’ll see you tonight for some dinner? My workplace, and you can tell me all about the priest.”

* * *

 

The long fingers with perfectly manicured black nails drummed lightly on the edge of the desk as Sebastian pondered on his next step. A spark of interest had made itself shown as he’d glanced into those admittedly quite attractive dark blue eyes of Vincent’s minion. The boy was cute, which meant that he probably never went without food, the crow demon concluded unrelated to that, because a pretty face was not in itself a matter enough to chase away his boredom. And he had proven skittish when approached despite Sebastian’s little ‘transformation’ – must have been mainly the priest thing (but then again it had been a logical course of action), but also something else… maybe a hidden, innate instinct he possessed despite being just a half-blood?

Sebastian decided he would spend the time left until their next encounter (in the practice room, that was bound to be somewhat amusing) in a productive manner, namely stalking Ciel Phantomhive. It would be interesting to watch him hunt.

* * *

 

The club had a large hall filled with randomly placed tables around the spacious dance floor and there was a small, chic little stage in the back, where most of the lights were concentrated. The bright red plush curtains sparked with golden decorations, easily drawing one’s gaze away from the rest of the setting, which was mostly sunken in darkness. Sebastian rather liked it – it was the kind of place usually enjoyed by his kind and it was also a spot where he could easily make himself unseen. The Crow demon sat down at a table and ordered an _Inferno_ cocktail – a hot and flame-colored beverage magically enhanced only when it came to visual effects but otherwise disappointingly plain in terms of ingredients (some fruity-spicy flavors and alcohol) – still pondering on Ciel Phantomhive’s choice of venues. Half-bloods used to stick to strictly human places, where their powers were best put to use and no one even as much as suspected what they really were, but instead Vincent’s minion had come to BeTz, your average Underworld club frequented by all sorts of creatures. In fact, not only had he come here, but Sebastian could clearly sense his presence somewhere beyond the stage curtains. Was he actually planning on appearing in the night’s show and let himself be seen by everyone? By all flames of Hell, he did hope that the boy hadn’t decided to try and find the mysterious soul eater on his own…     

* * *

 

“I think this is a bad idea…”

“Oh, why is it a bad idea?” Alois rolled his eyes, focusing on powdering his cheekbones with a cheap imitation of fairy dust. “You need to have some fun every now and then and even if this isn’t our usual turf, it’ll get us warmed up for the real thing later on.”   

The blue-eyed demon worried his bottom lip, fidgeting on the plush stool. “Yeah but what if the soul eater is here? Is it a good idea to draw attention on myself like that?”

“What are the odds of that?” the blond scrunched up his miniscule nose.”They were surprised and very likely super-pissed that you killed their big ugly mutt – if indeed it was nothing more than a collecting shell or a weapon – but that does not mean they’ll have nothing better to do than run around finding out everything they can about you. After all, from what I’ve heard soul-eating demons are particularly voracious, never quite having their fill no matter how much they consume, so they should be more preoccupied with getting food than anything else.”

“Yeah, but I’m a threat, right? I mean, what if I were to show up again next time they wanted to feed? And what if they think my soul is… I don’t know… stronger than the other souls of the children? What if that means that it would taste better or some shit?”

Alois laughed. ”My friend, your soul isn’t entirely human anymore, so it’s like a nicely roasted piece of salmon someone poured plenty of expired béchamel sauce on. Really not good for the stomach.” He leaned in, patting the blue-eyed boy’s shoulder. “Look, don’t worry, even if they were here, by some fucked up chance, all public places of this kind have an informal truce agreement. Which means if you get in here and start a fight with the staff or another patron, the guards will fuck you up.”  

But somehow Ciel wasn’t very convinced of this so-called safety. The feeling that there was something going on, something he couldn’t quite grasp kept bothering him, not allowing the boy to relax. Maybe he would feel better after he fed? But then the thought of feeding meant that they’d have to meet some new people for the evening and he was rather wary of it. What if the soul-eater was lurking somewhere out there, in the darkness, waiting for the right opportunity to strike?

“Damn, you look pale,” Alois said. “Later we’ll need to get you some food asap, but for now I need you to look the part, okay?” Saying that, he pinched Ciel’s cheeks so hard that the half-blood wondered if his face was still in one piece.

The nymph had arranged for him to be part of the number – the owner liked Alois so much and considered him to be so prolific in terms of business that she would allow and give in to his every whim – so Ciel was wearing a nicely tailored dark blue tweed suit with an elegant jacket and matching knee-length breeches, completed with long black socks and cute black-and-white shiny shoes. A black velvet, chic kitten bow was tied around his neck, over the crisp white collar of the shirt. Ciel wasn’t particularly happy about this get-up, but at least it was decent. In turn, his friend wore a white, almost see-through lace shirt and black silk, very short shorts, the whole ensemble topped with knee-high, high-heeled boots the wearing of which was simply beyond comprehension. In fact, Ciel was sure that all his demonic powers wouldn’t have prevented him from stumbling and falling flat on his face if he were to try them on. But anyway, at least the little song ‘adaptation’ the nymph had chosen for their number was quite inspired, the boy thought.    

“Are you ready?” The blond stood from his seat and struck a dramatic pose, grinning widely. “C’mon C., time to break those black little hearts,” he laughed.

The young demon stood too and smoothed non-existent wrinkles on his posh suit, taking a deep breath. It was quite the thing to be able to muster talents one had never worked to acquire, he figured, but still he was a bit nervous at the thought of being center of attention under those bright, blinding lights.

A small hand pushed aside the heavy plush fabric and Ciel stepped out on the stage, shoes clicking at every step on the wooden floorboards as he walked determined towards the single chair placed right in the middle, ignoring the loud comments and cat calls from the audience. The boy kept his eyes down all the while up until the moment the lights dimmed and with a snap of fingers he made the music begin. Only then the blue eyes looked up and swept over the crowd of unknown faces seemingly indifferent.  

_He take my money when I'm in need…  
Yeah he's a trifling friend indeed_

_Oh he's a gold digger way over town…  
That digs on me_

The sound of the lonely trumpet was suddenly doubled by loud drums and the curtains were drawn aside, finally revealing the blonde nymph.

_Now I ain't sayin' I’m a gold digger  
But I ain't messin' with no broke, broke demon_

Alois sang, brushing teasingly past his friend and wiggling his index finger to the spectators.  


_Now I ain't sayin' I’m a gold digger  
But I ain't messin' with no broke, broke demon_

While the chorus intervened, in the background Ciel shook his head dramatically, pointing an accusing finger at the blond.

 _My nymph the bomb_  
_Met him at a beauty salon_  
 _With a baby Louis Vuitton_  
 _Under his underarm_  
 _He said I can tell you rock_  
 _I can tell by your charm_  
 _Far as boys you got a flock_  
 _I can tell by your charm and your arm_  
 _But I'm looking for the one_  
 _Have you seen him?_  
…

Alois leaned over and pinched his cheek playfully, biting his bottom lip as he looked back at the crowd and curving his body, but the brunet pushed his hand away, scowling a bit and pointing again with his finger.

 _If you fucking with this nymph then you better be paid  
You know why?  
It take too much to touch him  
My best friend says he used to fuck with others  
I don't care what none of y'all say I still love him  
_ ….  
  
_If you ain't no punk holla we want contract_  
_WE WANT CONTRACT! Yeah_  
 _It's something that you need to have_  
 _Cause when he leave your soul he gonna leave with half_  


Downing the remainder of his drink, Sebastian chuckled, enjoying himself. The little half-blood had a sense of humor, if nothing else, and he always appreciated that. By now, the audience was quite frantic and the blonde nymph jumped down from the stage, walking up towards a table where a tall, brunet man with gold-rimmed spectacles stuck a generous amount of bills into the hem of the boy’s shorts.

Back on the stage and still sitting stiffly in his chair, Ciel feigned a disapproving scowl again:

 _Now I ain't saying you're a gold digger you got needs  
You don't want your dude to smoke but he can't buy weed  
You go out to eat, he can't pay y'all can't leave  
There's dishes in the back, he gotta roll up his sleeves  
But why y'all washing watch him  
He gone make it into a Benz out of that Datsun  
He got that ambition, baby, look in his eyes  
This week he mopping floors, next week _ _it's the fries  
_ _So, stick by his side  
I know this dude's balling but yeah that's nice  
And they gone keep calling and trying  
But you stay right, hold  
_ _And when you get on he leave your ass for a half-blood(*)_

The faint smile still lingering on Sebastian’s lips disappeared upon observing the man Alois was currently entertaining. Of course, given this place he was most likely not a _man_ , but even so there was something odd about him that the crow demon couldn’t really pinpoint. Maybe it was something about those golden, unusual eyes he saw glinting when the man turned? Most demons who walked around in human ‘attire’ preferred wearing naturally human eye colors (Sebastian was an exception to that because he just had a thing for garnet and _in extremis_ it could be explained), the telltale magenta glowing in their irises only at certain moments and usually indicative of certain emotions.

He saw the man’s pale, elegant hand digging into the fine woolen coat and pulling up a small card he offered with a smile just before the blond nymph walked away from him, and the crow demon scowled, squinting at the stranger.  Of course, the nymphs held a certain attractiveness, but upon closer observation he’d noted that the stranger had only shown a shallow interest in the blond, the golden gaze subtly but constantly going back to the other boy left on the stage. And _that_ was quite odd, because Ciel’s half-blood nature should have been plain obvious to anyone present (unless some genuine humans had accidentally strayed in the dark realm looking for trouble) and demons did not normally show interest in any half-bloods other than their own ‘property’.  Could it have been an acquaintance of Vincent’s? But Vincent Phantomhive had been dead for a while now, so why would anyone – friend or foe – give a damn about the boy?    

The song ended and the two boys disappeared behind the stage curtains, Sebastian being left pondering what to do. The golden-eyed stranger had ordered another drink and was currently checking his phone, paying no attention to the next performer who appeared shortly afterwards. Did this mean he was here with a clear purpose? The crow demon wondered if there was any other exit from the club – maybe one directly from backstage – which could have allowed Ciel Phantomhive to slip out unnoticed, but it was doubtful considering the underground location. Was the man waiting for him to come out?

Well, by all the flames of Hell, someone else going after his prey was an unexpected and most annoying development, the crow demon decided. Damn, he wanted the chance to study Vincent’s little minion without anyone interfering and this now undoubtedly meant that he would have to protect the boy.

* * *

 

When Ciel eventually got back home it was well past two in the morning. He and the nymph had wandered in three more human-frequented clubs afterwards and gotten a rather rich dinner, so now a good sleep was in order to get properly restored. The blue-eyed boy blatantly ignored his uncle, who had fallen asleep barely missing the couch, as well as the multitude of open books and notes scattered upstairs in his own room as proof of awaiting assignments. He just wanted to sleep.  

Ciel brushed a few text books away from the duvet with a lazy sweep of his hand, kicked off his shoes and pulled the sweater over his head before proceeding to drop onto the bed face down. And only then a faint rustle of fabric alerted him that there was something – or someone – in the room with him and he shot up abruptly, with a surprised yelp.

“Oh, shit… You have to be fucking kidding me! The fuck are you doing here, _Father_?”

**_To be continued_ **


	5. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER 5**

A/N – Hello everyone! I am seriously so happy that this story turned out to be so popular! (seeing how it started by being such a crap, tbh) Anyway, in order to get inspiration I just started re-watching the Kuro anime and what do you know, guess there were so many things I’d forgotten completely! So that was helpful even if this fic is an AU and here I am guys, with a new chapter! Enjoy it, everybun! (or everycat, yes, cats are so sublime! But you already knew that, right? Heh..)

**-x-**

Sebastian shifted slightly in his seat, tilting his head at the surprised boy as he casually smoothed a nonexistent crease on his black trousers. “Undertaker is concerned about you,” he said in reply. “He thought it useful that someone should keep an eye on things for the time being, seeing how it’s very likely that the… soul eating creature might still be out there.”

Ciel snorted. “Really. He was concerned, so he sent _you_ … to take care of _me_. If he was so concerned, shouldn’t he have come himself or something?” Too tired to explain the (obvious) logic behind that statement, he could only hope that the priest understood what it meant.

“Indeed,” the older demon agreed, “Then perhaps he is not _that_ concerned after all, I suppose.”

The boy yawned. “So now what, will you stay there all night?”

“Please don’t mind me, I won’t disturb your sleep.”

Narrowed blue eyes thoughtfully assessed Sebastian for a few moments.”Fine, knock yourself out,” the half-blood replied, proceeding to pass out on the bed.

-x-

Thank God it was Friday, although arguably that was presently the only good thing. Ciel tried to stay positive, even though he’d woken up to an excessively messy room, a pile of pending school assignments and the mysterious young priest fast asleep, curled up awkwardly on the same hard chair he’d been occupying the night before. The blue-eyed demon tossed off the covers and swung his legs over the edge of the bed with a deep sigh. He picked up a pair of socks from the floor, but upon closer inspection it turned out that aside from the awful smell they were worn thin in the heels. In the trash bin they went as a grumbling Ciel padded barefoot and already ill-humored to the bathroom and then down to the kitchen to make breakfast.

Sebastian took his time with the sleeping charade a while longer, intending to show enough human weakness as to put the boy’s potential suspicions to rest. He only stirred from his uncomfortable seat as an enticing coffee smell began wafting from the kitchen, soon followed by an equally pleasurable aroma of bacon and eggs. The crow demon might not have had any need for human food – as the vital life essence commonly called blood was what he utmost preferred and needed for sustenance – but coffee was a pleasantly warming, strong-flavored beverage and many times the very demon aesthetics had urged him to commend human food as fairly indulge-able. Thus he would not refuse a bite every now and then and his newly human disguise was the perfect opportunity for just that.   

Slowly and cautiously he made his way out of the room and down the stairs, mentally noting that while Ciel’s room was one indescribable mess, the rest of the house was kept in surprisingly good order. The man he’d seen passed out on the living-room the night before was gone and so were the surrounding food wrappers and empty beer cans which had been littering the floor. The kitchen was neat and sparkling clean and he walked up to take a seat at the table.

“Good morning!”

“Ah, good morning, Father! Did you sleep well?” Ciel greeted in reply, gingerly placing a steamy mug and a full plate under the priest’s nose.

“Yes, and thank you.” The crow demon threw another quick glance around, hands clasping around the hot mug as he pondered. He tried to picture Vincent Phantomhive in this pristine, proper-looking dwelling, with abundant light pouring in through the large windows, spending time with this still rather well-raised boy, instead of lurking in the dark dens filled with lost souls which demons usually preferred. At any rate, whatever this had been, it must have taken a lot of pretending on the late demon’s behalf. 

At the end of the table Ciel was absently taking small bites of his food, while continuously fingering his cell phone. At some point, Sebastian thought he heard a very suspicious click, but just when he was about to subtly ask what was going on, the other inhabitant of the house showed up. He was a man of forty-something, still somewhat handsome now that his jaw was freshly shaved and his hair combed, and the pearly grey suit he was wearing didn’t look half bad either. On a closer look, the demon could notice a vague resemblance between him and the boy.

“Mornin’ Sebastian,” the newcomer said in a coarse voice, reaching for a cup of coffee himself.

The crow demon’s eyebrows shot up in surprise for the briefest moment, before he muttered a greeting in reply, eyes darting to where Ciel sat.

“Good morning, dear uncle! I must say you look great in the suit I just picked from drycleaners and by the way, after getting all the groceries and stuff I came out fifty dollars short so if you-… Tch!” The boy’s speech was cut off when said uncle marched out of the kitchen as brusquely as he’d come in, not bothering to grace him with as much as a glance. “Hey!”

Sebastian grasped the opportunity that the half-blood had left his seat in pursuit of the elusive uncle and reached for the abandoned phone which had just vibrated on the table top. On the lit screen there was a short message from someone named Alois (probably the blonde nymph, he guessed) and the demon swiped his finger over it curiously.

_C., are you sure that he’s a priest?! I mean, Beelzebub’s COCK!! You HAVE to find out what he tastes like ;))_

“My, I’d better be careful then,” the raven-haired priest chuckled to himself, biting his bottom lip. He quickly marked the message as unread and replaced the phone back in its original spot just as the front door was slammed violently. Soon afterwards the blue-eyed demon returned and plopped in his seat with an irritated huff.

“That was your uncle, I suppose?”

Ciel huffed again, the scowl lingering on his face. “Yeah… Undertaker wants me to live with him until I turn eighteen or something, so for now we have to play a game called ‘let’s pretend that _you_ ’re seventeen and _I_ ’m forty- three’. And he’s getting better and better at it every day.”  

“Indeed, he wasn’t even surprised to see me here.”

“No, I told him you were a distant relative from Mom’s side and you’ll be staying a couple of days,” the half-blood shrugged and picked up the phone. A dainty thumb swiped over the screen and Sebastian saw his eyes widen almost inconspicuously.

He took a slow sip from his coffee, observing the boy. “Did you _tell_ him or did you charm him into believing all that?”

“Told him, charmed him, what’s the difference?”Ciel said, buttoning a reply. “Whatever it takes to make sure things go smoothly, he bathes regularly, gets dressed and leaves for work every day. I’m really doing everything I’m supposed to.”

“Have you ever tried charming him into giving up his alcohol addiction?”

The younger demon looked up brusquely, lips slightly parted and looking almost shocked. He blinked quickly, struggling to come up with an answer. “That’s just… it wouldn’t work, okay?” came a grumbled reply eventually, as Ciel stared into his own mug. “This whole ‘charm’ thing as you call it only works on short term stuff.”

Of course, it was a lie, but the priest had no way of knowing, right? The nerve of this man, first barging into his house, then inviting himself at the breakfast table and now trying to take him on a guilt trip! Fucking unbelievable! Fucking Undertaker, the bastard must have done it on purpose, he’d found this hunky young priest whom he’d probably instructed to be both a tease and a nuisance, and all just because Ciel had asked for a raise! Asshole…

“I’m sorry…” Sebastian said unexpectedly, his voice even softer than before. “I was simply curious as to the extent of your magic skills, it was never my intention to open any wounds. Please forgive me.” He graciously bowed his head, raven-black bangs shadowing his face. Ciel had to admit that the young priest had a certain particular charm, but one which seemed slightly off considering his profession. And damn his hair was so black, his skin such flawless, pale porcelain and his eyes, which must have actually been a reddish sort of brown, appeared garnet-colored at times by a weird trick of the light. There could be no doubt about it, Undertaker must have chosen this man especially.

“Oh… you think he’s like that because of my parents’ death? Nah… that’s the thing really, he’s always been like that, ever since I first laid eyes on him. My Dad and he didn’t exactly get along because of it, I think.”

Blue eyes met the crimson ones as an idea formed in the boy’s mind suddenly. Maybe if he shared his story _Father_ Sebastian Michaelis would be willing to try and persuade Undertaker to give up this idea of him living a ‘normal’ teenager’s life bound to his stupid uncle. He would have been so much better off moving into Alois’s flat and sharing the expenses instead of having to spend his meager income his job with the agency yielded and whatever he could snatch on the side to support his so-called caretaker.

“I don’t know how much the Undertaker told you about my background, but…” Ciel paused, worrying his bottom lip for enhanced effect. “After my parents died, uncle Paul got my custody, however he really did a lousy job at it from the very beginning. I don’t know whether it was because he still had a grudge for my Dad or he just hated the responsibility. Anyway, he beat me up a few times, other times he would leave me all alone to starve, shit like that… But then his friend Vincent Phantomhive began coming by. He said he was a lawyer, just like uncle Paul, except somehow he was never that busy. He took care of me, bought me clothes and books, put food on the table, even went to school to talk to one of my teachers. Well, I know he was a demon and you might say he used me and stuff, but he was there for me in the way my uncle never was, you know?”

The priest nodded, with a thoughtful expression. Maybe the chances of him being swayed were pretty good, Ciel noted. “Anyway, now that Vincent’s gone, I was left having to provide for both myself and my uncle and as you were probably told, the agency’s pay is pretty shit,” he concluded, letting a soft sigh escape as he downed the remainder of his coffee. If _Father_ Sebastian Michaelis had been anyone else and not an employee of the agency, he would have used his mind-controlling powers on him without hesitation, but as things were it was probably a bad idea. “But enough about me, will you reveal anything about yourself?”

The crow demon smiled lightly. “There isn’t much to say about me, I’ve led quite the ordinary life so far, with what one would call average accomplishments…. And I do what I do now simply because it’s my calling, because it’s my purpose to fight for the right reasons and to do the right thing. I only do what I feel that I must do, really.” And wasn’t that last part there the pure truth, Sebastian thought amused.   

“I see.” Ciel stood from his seat and collected his cup and plate, walking up to place them in the sink. “Well, at any rate, don’t think I’ll go easy on you. I must be off to school, but we’ll meet up later at the agency and you’ll have the chance to show me what you’ve got in the practice room,” the blue-eyed demon added with a small grin. “By the way, _Father_ , you don’t mind cleaning up in here, do you? The keys are on the table out in the hallway, so when you leave please lock up and leave them under the mat, okay?”

With that, Vincent’s minion was gone and the crow demon was left to conclude that his little stalking strategy might have backfired somewhat. Of course, he should have imagined that there would be a downside to his human act and that he would have to show himself inferior to the little mongrel… but then again revealing his true nature was not an option, at least not yet. He set about the given task nevertheless, gathering all the dishes, diligently wiping the tabletop until it was spotless and proceeding to rinse the plates and mugs.

-x-

The activity itself and his own buzzing thoughts kept Sebastian absorbed for a while, yet not enough as to miss the fact that there was someone else in the house. Light steps could be heard padding on the floor right above his head and the raven-haired demon frowned, eyes focused on the ceiling. The image of the golden-eyed stranger back at BeTz popped in his mind and he was once more reminded of the reason why he’d actually spent the night in Ciel Phantomhive’s room. But it couldn’t be that one now, could it? Surely not now, in broad daylight, when the boy wasn’t even at home…

After hastily wiping his hands on a towel, Sebastian carefully tiptoed to the bottom of the stairs, then, after seeing nothing, slid up soundlessly all the way upstairs. Indeed, there was someone in Ciel’s room, for a moving shadow was visible on the polished wood of the door left ajar by Ciel in his hurry.

“How bothersome…” the demon grumbled, deciding that whoever it was lurking with foul intent around his prey wasn’t worth the whole priest act and would get a full taste of what he was capable of. Walking up to the door, he cracked it open some more, slowly, using only two fingers.

To his surprise the intruder was a blonde teenage girl with skinny jeans and a frilly pink top, hair long, thick hair swept in two curled pigtails and topped with a large, equally pink ribbon on the side. She was currently rummaging through the minion’s wardrobe, curiously flipping the hangers and randomly pulling out an item to inspect from time to time. Sebastian simply stood there, mouth curling with mirth as the girl finally decided on one of Ciel’s shirts and put it on, then shifted her focus towards the stack of books and notebooks on the half-blood’s desk. She searched the two side drawers as well, eventually plucking a small, hard-covered notebook which looked like a diary, and began leafing through it with great interest.

“May I help you, Miss?”

The crow demon barely held back a smile when the girl jumped at the sudden sound of his voice, green eyes wide and cheeks instantly flushing as the supposed diary slipped from her hands and landed on the carpet with a loud thud. Her mouth opened, but no words came out as she gasped, hoping for some miraculous escape.

“Would you mind telling me who you are and why you’re here?” Sebastian asked softly, taking a few steps forward and collecting the fallen notebook from the ground, his eyes set curiously on the blonde even as his long fingers smoothed out the creased pages.

Eventually, the girl nodded weakly. “I-I am Lizzie… As in Elizabeth Midford… You know, Ciel’s g-girlfriend?” She paused, drawing a shaky breath. “Did he… not mention me?”

 _Girlfriend_. Yet another complication, he caught himself thinking with a sudden scowl. “No, I’m afraid he did not.”     

**_To be continued_ **


	6. Chapter 6

**CHAPTER 6**

A/N – Hello everyone! Surprisingly, I felt a surge of inspiration for this story when there was no hope (probably because I very recently read a couple of amazing updates from my fellow authors **BlackRoseEden** and **AnimeCujo** here on AO3 and which I heartily recommend to all of you Kuro fans ;))). So here I am, with a new chapter where the plot is beginning to pick up. Enjoy and a big hug to all of you who keep reading this despite the few-and-far-in-between updates!

* * *

 

Ciel let out a deep sigh as he stepped out of the musty-smelling elevator and dug inside his jacket for the access card. It took a couple of attempts and a few curses until it worked and the thick metal door swung open, revealing the long, narrow corridor with a single dirty bulb hanging from the cracked ceiling and carpeted with the peeling linoleum which always made a ridiculous squeaking sound under people’s shoes.  

_‘He makes me nervous. I don’t know why, but just as I was leaving the house this morning, after our little chat over breakfast… I kinda had an episode. Started shaking and couldn’t walk straight. I felt eyes watching me. My flesh felt as if it was shriveling, my heart was pounding, I broke into a cold sweat. It all passed by the time I got to school, but I don’t want to see him again today.’_

The boy halted his steps, eyeing the offices warily. The priest was probably already in there, waiting as instructed.

_‘The priest is human, so the good news is that even if he’s a threat you can take him on. The bad news is that the threat you felt must be something else, can’t be him. So it might be that the soul eater is lurking nearby after all…’_

Alois’s conclusion had done nothing to dim the anguish coiling in the pit of his stomach, if anything it had made it worse. Maybe the nymph was right and there was nothing _particularly_ hazardous about Father Michaelis, but funny how he’d showed up just now, almost in the same time with the beast from the playground.

Hands clutching the strap of his school bag, the minion made his way into the antechamber of the offices. As usual, Undertaker’s red-haired secretary was planted behind his desk, awfully busy doing nothing.

“Hey, Grell…” Ciel said in a low voice, leaning a bit over the desk when the reaper blatantly ignored him. “I was meaning to ask you something… I was wondering how come the Undertaker managed to recruit Father Michaelis? How did he… find him or something?”

The green eyes remained glued to the computer screen as the reaper still pretended to work, but Grell pursed his lips thoughtfully. “Hmmm… I wouldn’t know what to tell you exactly, where and how, but apparently it took a bit of courting on Undertaker’s behalf. Not that _I_ ’m complaining though…”   

“Courting?”

He got no reply, instead the door to the main study opened and Father Michaelis appeared in the frame. “Oh, hello Ciel, looks like you’re early,” he said, brushing the long bangs framing his face on one side behind his ear.

Well, he looked really calm for a man about to get his ass kicked, the petite half-demon thought maliciously. Ciel eyed the young man’s lithe frame clothed in dark, non-descript training apparel - it seemed almost fragile, easily snapable. Obviously, Alois was right, the priest held no danger for him. _Just a man. I’ve got nothing to fear. He can’t hurt me._ Also, the weird, warning hunch he’d gotten in the morning did not return.

“So, shall we?”

* * *

 

The boy slid the school bag off his shoulder as the lights were switched on and the shabby practice room came into view. He’d only been in there a couple of times, mostly out of curiosity towards the impressive collection of weapons hung on the walls, but never for any actual practice. After all, he’d never had a worthy sparring partner before (Undertaker could not be bothered in that regard and Grell’s nails were always freshly painted or something).

“By the way,” Sebastian went on, as Ciel was shrugging off his denim jacket. “I left everything in order back at the house, just as you asked me to. I also had the pleasure of meeting your girlfriend towards the end of my visit.” The confident smirk the blue-eyed minion had eventually mustered upon rolling his sleeves instantly twisted into a sour scowl, much to the crow demon’s secret glee. “Elizabeth Midford, I believe?”

Equally confused as he was annoyed, the half-blood was unable to comprehend how the hell had Lizzie (of all fucking people!) come into the equation. “Wha-… How did you-… Uh, she’s not… I mean…”

“She was upstairs in your room and we accidentally stumbled upon each other,” Sebastian shrugged. “Said she’d only dropped by to pick up some stuff.”

Ciel’s eyes bulged for a moment, in complete disbelief. “Look, Father-“

“Please, call me Sebastian. I don’t care for formalities.”

“Wha-… Okay, _Sebastian_ , there was a misunderstanding. I mean, you’ve been deceived! Lizz-… Elizabeth Midford is NOT my girlfriend! We just went out like once, with some friends, got… uh… a couple of drinks, but that was it! For some reason she’s been _stalking_ me ever since, but she really ISN’T my girlfriend!”  

Crimson bore into dark blue and the crow demon picked the whiff of a lie as well as a guilty undertone in the younger’s demeanor. Ciel had probably fed on the girl at some point and done a shit job at deleting her memory of the incident – he guessed – hence the sense of attachment she’d unconsciously developed for him. Served the little mongrel right to have his things ransacked as a consequence, Sebastian thought amused.

“Well then,” he pointed casually, “Perhaps you could have charmed her into giving up the stalking?”

The minion rolled his eyes, exasperated. “Well I didn’t know she’d go as far as to creep into my house and steal my stuff, now did I?!” It was presently hard to say which was more disturbing: the priest fixating on and making a fuss about his ‘charming’ abilities or Lizzie going through his things and taking stuff. Had she done it before?!  “What the hell did she take, anyway?”

“Um… not sure. I think she put on a shirt from the wardrobe and there was something like… a hard-cover notebook of sorts?”

“Great!” the boy stated morosely. “Hah, what do you know: bigger problems than the soul eater!”

Sebastian sighed, walking up to the weapons panel and giving it a thoughtful glance. “Look, don’t take it that way, maybe she’s a good person and it’s not… unnatural for her to be drawn to you. Or you to her. In fact, there’s nothing wrong in having a girlfriend at your age.”

“Yeah, well Undertaker disagrees. He says that I shouldn’t be getting, you know, _too close_ to someone that way. It might result in a feeding frenzy and then someone might end up dead,” Ciel admitted reluctantly. “I guess he has a point, it… it might happen…” 

So _that_ had nearly happened to Lizzie, the crow demon concluded, fighting back a smile. “Oh, that’s right, you’re dangerous.”

No matter how innocently uttered, the fine irony behind the words was still perceivable and the boy inconspicuously gritted his teeth. “Yes, so why don’t you show me what you’ve got?”

Indeed, he was supposed to prove himself worthy of being Ciel Phantomhive’s sidekick. Sebastian walked up to the middle of the mattress covering most of the floor and turned expectantly, sizing up the petite half-blood who had remained at the edge, arms crossed and rocking slightly on the balls of his feet.

“Well, I told Undertaker that I wouldn’t risk hurting you, so I won’t pick any weapons,” the priest said. “Just come at me. Whenever you’re ready.”

Ciel raised an eyebrow – did the Father seriously not realize that he was much stronger than him and could crush him with his bare hands?! Was he really so naïve as to be deceived by his small size and light weight? He was sourly mistaken if that was the case, but even if the boy had no doubt about winning the confrontation, he still didn’t want to make it too one-sided. He wouldn’t try too much. 

_Not that I’ll go easy on you, Father…_

“Come on, don’t worry about me. I’ve got some tricks up my sleeve regardless,” Sebastian said. Admittedly, it would be a challenge to keep his skills to a _human_ level in the fight, but the crow demon enjoyed challenges.

Ciel titled his head to the side, as if pondering on how to go about attacking his opponent. His eyes flashed a bright magenta for a second, and then he lunged forward with lightning speed. In the next moment, the petite minion was in the priest’s face and a small hand shot out, grabbing the man by the throat and sending him flying into the farthest wall. He then sauntered slowly in the direction of the fallen priest, just to give him enough time to pick himself up from the ground.

Sebastian was panting a bit as a result of the impact, but he jumped up like a spring and swiftly dodged Ciel’s swing aimed at his jaw. Instead, he gripped the boy’s wrist and promptly delivered a powerful kick into his stomach. The half-blood stumbled backwards, air knocked out of his lungs momentarily. However, right away the crow demon found himself back on the defensive and small knuckles painfully connected with the side of his face (darn, he’d have to fake a bruise there now!).    

“You’re holding back,” the raven-haired demon said, his breath a bit labored after avoiding a few more blows. “I know Undertaker has asked you not to hurt me, but we’re not accomplishing anything this way. Come on, give me your all!”

With an impish smirk, Ciel drew back and jumped, such that in the next moment he was crouched, hanging almost upside down on the heating pipes lining the upper side of the wall, just near the ceiling. If the priest really wanted to see some demonic tricks, he would get them…      

“I’ll do my best, however I must be mindful you know, because Grell’s scythe happens to be a chainsaw and he’ll shove it up my ass if anything should happen to that pretty face of yours,” he chuckled.

Sebastian poked the inside of his cheek with his tongue as he looked up at the blue-eyed minion, mind already working fast on completely different issues. Oh, his next book was definitely coming up! Maybe it would not be as profound as his previous works, but it would surely be entertaining, his readers would enjoy the tale of the half-blood boy abandoned by his maker and left to fend for himself. It would undoubtedly be the sort of mainstream crap he had feared he’d end up writing in lieu of any _real_ subject, but at least the dialogues were bound to be good. The crow demon nearly had a mind to drop everything and run to his desk to begin writing.    

The long, slender fingers shook and grasped the wooden rosary hidden inside his sleeve just as Ciel jumped down from his spot right on top of him and the two of them tumbled onto the mattress in a heap. The older demon quickly found himself pinned down under the boy’s weight, small thighs squeezing his torso from the sides and making it hard to breathe and hands held above his head, while the minion used his free hand to apply just the right amount of pressure onto the priest’s airways.      

“Are you ready to yield, Father?” he grinned.

“Hmm… no.”

Suddenly Sebastian’s hand freed itself from the boy’s grip and the rosary interlaced around his fingers was promptly pressed flat against Ciel’s chest, right above his heart. The minion’s eyes widened in shock as pain shot, sharp and unbearable, through his whole body, cutting his breath short. He collapsed backwards onto the mattress, limp like a rag doll and blacked out.   

When he opened his eyes again Undertaker’s face hovered above, mildly curious, and there was something warm on his face – Sebastian’s hand pressed softly against his cheek in an almost-caress.

“Are you alright, down there?” the reaper asked.

“Father… M-Michaelis… f-fights… dirty…” Ciel managed, sniffing, even if by now the pain was gone and strength was gradually returning back to his limbs.

“It was indeed my fault,” the priest admitted, withdrawing his hand. “It seems like I underestimated the effects of my old keepsake.”

Bullshit, Ciel thought, hauling himself to a sitting position and wiping his nose. He was quite sure that the blasted rosary hadn’t been wrapped around the priest’s wrist in the morning like it was now. It wasn’t a fucking _keepsake_ either, it was a weapon and the effective manner in which it had taken him out of the game made the priest actually dangerous.  He would be sure to tell the nymph to shove his advice where the sun didn’t shine!

“Right, now onto more pressing matters,” Undertaker spoke, straightening, “It looks like your friend Elizabeth Midford just got into trouble. The kind we’ll have to take care of, too,” he added, digging up a business card out of one of his oversized sleeves. “Good thing we keep an eye on her, or should I say ‘used to’? Ke, ke, ke… Anyway, today she decided to skip the last two classes and oddly enough left her bag behind. We found this most curious thing among her belongings.”

“Seriously?” Ciel was positively exasperated, was there really no end to the subject of Elizabeth Midford?! He snatched the card from the reaper’s hand and scowled at it. “Drocell Caines – _Finest dolls_? What the fuck? I mean, isn’t she, like, too old for dolls or something? Or maybe she’s just a crazy Barbie collector…”

“She never made it back and I think you should look into it, considering…” Undertaker pointed.

“Why do _I_ have to do everything all the damn time?!....”

* * *

 

Sebastian discreetly backed away from the ensuing argument, having decided to leave Vincent’s minion to his own devices for the time being. Carefully locking up the door to his own office and letting the others helplessly wonder as to where he’d disappeared so brusquely, the crow demon finally settled at his own desk and powered up the computer. For once in… hard to say how long, he felt truly inspired and the next few hours should have been sufficient for him to sketch the outline of his book and deliver it to his editor (and claim he’d been at it for at least two weeks). The plot was already there: abandoned by his maker, a boy turned half demon makes an improbable team with a young, unconventional priest in the hunt for a merciless, soul-eating hell spawn and in the end, after many adventures, emerges victorious. _And_ he also gets the cute blonde girl.

What a crap, Sebastian concluded, nevertheless recalling Ciel’s horrified expression with some glee. Staring at the momentarily blank Word document, he rested his chin in his hand, wondering how many of the Agency’s bills this lame little project would eventually cover.

**_To be continued_ **

_A/N – Yes, in case you were wondering, I am going for a tiny bit of the canon plot here as far as Drocell is concerned, but with a new, far creepier twist. Other than that, no more spoilers for you people and no, Sebastian’s crappy outline is not actually a spoiler for things to come, he’ll probably end up altering it significantly ;)_

      

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